They Don't Serve Breakfast
by BladeAchilles
Summary: A new look on some famous cartoon characters, and a conversation in a bar does not end well.


Authors notes: I don't own anything. Well, anything you recognise from the story.

I groaned as I heard the door open, the noise making my head pound with pain. Thankfully, the light in this particular bar was pretty dim, most likely because whoever owned this place didn't want to have to look at all the grungy patrons. But even the little light there was hurt, so I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I'd been in here since last night, and the thought of having to get up and go back out there, to them, almost made me cry.

Keeping my head firmly on the dirty, beer stained table where it had fallen sometime around dawn, I slowly moved my hand towards the general area of my mug, hopefully with a liquid bounty still in it. Beer was not as good as what I needed, what I craved with every waking moment, but it would suffice. Grabbing the mug I dragged it towards me, and stopped when I heard someone sit down at my table. "Go 'way." Odd. Usually no-one came near me unless they wanted money, and I had spent the last of mine on the beer in my hand.

"Look at you. You're pathetic. The semi-familiar arrogant tone made me slowly sit up.

"Don't have ta shout." I mumbled. Massaging my aching temples I looked blearily at the figure dressed in a long black cloak sitting across from me. Keeping my voice down to a whisper (as I wished he would), I asked him what he was doing here.

"I have a proposition for you. Something I think will solve both our problems."

Frowning at my empty cup I replied absently. "Yeah, and how're you going to do that?" I really needed another drink. He leaned across the table, trying not to let his cloak touch the myriad unidentifiable stains.

"Listen. They know us; know our strengths and weaknesses, know exactly how to fight us. No matter how hard we try, we cannot win against them." I knew exactly who he was talking about, how could I not?

"Why do you think I'm in here, guzzling shitty beer till I pass out?"

"There is one thing we can do that they won't see coming. One thing they'll never expect us to do."

That made me sit up fully. Tossing aside my empty mug I stroked my chin as I listened as a plan developed that might finally damn those little monsters to whatever Hellish Pit they sprang from. At last, those Lucky Charms would be mine.

Grinning, I peeked around a bush and spotted a group of about three or four kids standing guard around a box of Trix cereal. Taking a deep breath and straightening my stylish green hat complete with shamrock, I stepped out into the clearing. One of the kids saw the motion and burst out with an automatic "Silly rabbit! Trix are for kids!"

Then they saw me and paused. "Wait a minute! Who the hell are you and why are you here? You can't have the Trix!" I smiled at them and laid on the charm.

"Sure and why not? I'm practically a kiddie! Short, high-pitched voice, stupid outfit, I've got it all! Faith and Begora, I should count!" They looked at each other, confused. It was then that I struck. The shillelagh stick can be a powerful weapon in the right hands, and I have had years of training.

The stick was a blur in my hands, striking at legs, arms, stomachs and heads, connecting with a thud or crunch and sending the little munchkin to the ground. They never stood a chance. Soon it was over, and I was stepping over bodies and grabbing the Trix. That rabbit had better keep his end of the bargain, I thought as I stowed the cereal under my coat and left.

Approaching the oh-too-familiar rainbow's end some time later, I saw the Trix rabbit dispassionately scan the fallen bodies surrounding my-yes, finally mine!- pot of Lucky Charms. That rabbit may look cute and cuddly, but I've heard some stories about him that would scare the mud off a pig. I headed straight for the Charms, but Trix stopped me before I could get to them. "Where is it?" I pushed the box towards him and hurried to the pot.

The first bite was heaven. I could feel the sugary goodness flowing through by veins as I crammed the delicious bits into my mouth as fast as I could. The rabbit sniffed in disdain. Arse. He was eating pretty fast too. A cursedly familiar sound penetrated my marshmallow induced haze. A little green shamrock clung to the side of my face as I shouted "Oh shit! It's the Cap'n!"

A diminutive man with a black mustache stepped out of the ship that was now resting on the meadow. "Oh dear. I had hoped that what the children had told me was false. I really did," he told me, shaking his head sadly. "I'm afraid that this kind of behavior is simply inexcusable, you know." I tried to run as I saw him draw a pistol from his belt and aim it at me, but he was too fast. Time slowed as I hit the ground, hearing a second blast no doubt aimed at the rabbit. My vision blurred into green and all I could hear as I drifted off was a few lines from a song playing in the distance..."and now the toast has burned, and all the milk has turned..."

The End. (Note- the lyrics and title are taken from the Newsboys song 'They don't serve breakfast in hell'


End file.
